To date, I have not created a single personal review to represent the Nero Wolfe novels of Rex Stout, despite having read (and reread) most of the series in the past two decades. I enjoy the books greatly, not least because Stout does a masterful job balancing elements of the traditional puzzle mystery story with the American milieu of hard-boiled crime. The corpulent Wolfe and his witty, street-smart chronicler Archie Goodwin are wonderful creations that work together in a sort of bristling harmony. Stout is also an instinctive pacer of plot, and every Wolfe mystery pushes forward organically and assuredly, with hardly a false step or story thread cul-de-sac along the way.

A lack of reviews may be due to the fact that I usually pick up and read these books for sheer entertainment: to enjoy the relationship between the larger-than-life, moody detective and his acerbic assistant; to appreciate how Stout imbues in Wolfe a skill to manipulate and mentally outmaneuver both suspects and law enforcement figures; to see whether the world will pressure Wolfe to cater to it (such as leaving the brownstone to attend a conference or answer a subpoena) or whether the sedentary Wolfe will get the world to come to him (which is usually the case). I enjoy every page of a Rex Stout mystery, but I have never wanted to spoil the effect with literary analysis.

Never having read an entry in Robert Goldsborough's continuation of the series – begun in 1986, with currently a dozen titles available – I thought it was definitely time to try a book. Although the eighth Goldsborough title published, I decided on Archie Meets Nero Wolfe, which shows Goodwin arriving in New York City around 1930 and connecting first with amiable private detective Del Bascom. Archie has to work to prove himself, which he does, finding a husband trying to hide out on the isle of Manhattan. When Del is called in as one of the operatives to assist Nero Wolfe on a kidnapping and ransom case, Archie tags along and enters for the first time that famous brownstone with the orchids on the top floor.

The kidnapped boy is Tommie Williamson, and an encounter with the kidnappers at the rendez-vous finds Tommie safe, but the criminals escape with a vast sum in ransom money. Believing that the kidnapping was in part an inside job, Wolfe persuades hotel magnate Burke Williamson to introduce Archie as the family's new chauffeur to solve two problems: he can keep an eye on Tommie in case anything happens again, and he can use his excellent memory of conversations to report discussions from the house staff. Also, the chauffeur position is available because the prior employee, William Bell, has mysteriously disappeared shortly after the kidnapping had concluded.

By necessity, this "origin story" throws Stout's usual winning formula a bit off-balance. As it is a tale of Archie working as an independent operative before he becomes a factotum for Wolfe, there is more gumshoe gunplay and interaction with hard-boiled types than pursuit of a fair-play puzzle solution. The first-person narrative directive is responsible for this focus, but it works here. When Wolfe is allowed a gathering-of-the-suspects moment in the novel's climax, it is a high point to watch the genre pieces lock into place. It's also enjoyable to see familiar faces like Inspector Cramer, Sergeant Stebbins, Saul Panzer, Orrie Cather, and Fred Durkin in attendance. Goldsborough is respectful to Stout's canon, if not especially inspired to do something more with the well-known characters.

There are a few quibbles with an otherwise enjoyable story. As for the kidnapping mystery, there was never a prime suspect assigned in terms of an accomplice at the house (besides the missing and soon-to-be-found-dead Bell), and clues and evidence were scant. As a result, the middle section where Archie speaks with the staff at the Williamson house feels like a rather desultory fishing expedition. Perhaps it is, but there isn't much forward momentum when what's under discussion isn't particularly notable or urgent.

Also, Wolfe continues to spend his own money to track down the guilty persons and receive closure – Tommie has been returned, after all – and this seems out of character. Saul Panzer tells Archie that Wolfe is taking it personally, but understanding his psychology the way that Stout constructs it, I don't know why he would. In 1938's Too Many Cooks, Wolfe does indeed work without a client and without a fee to catch a murderer, but he has three very Wolfean reasons for doing so: he is stuck in West Virginia and does not believe the inept law officials will arrest the right person, so he hopes to speed matters along; suspicion has fallen on one of his rare true friends, chef Marko Vukcic; and by solving the mystery he might just get the coveted, much-guarded recipe for saucisse minuit in return.

There's also the wrong note of Wolfe telling Goodwin outright in his interview that he needs someone to "spur [him] into action," something Archie does with relish in the Stout books, but a step I always presumed was taken through observation of the detective's inclined inertia, not because Wolfe had the humility to request it as part of the job description. Taken in all, though, Archie Meets Nero Wolfe is an enjoyable, if slight, reading experience. And I appreciate that Goldsborough built this action story from a brief reference to a past case in Stout's very first Nero Wolfe story, 1934's Fer-de-Lance.